


Falling

by manvsmilk



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sex, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-30 00:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12096846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manvsmilk/pseuds/manvsmilk
Summary: A collection of moments in which Izaya learns about love and Shizuo learns about Izaya.





	Falling

**Author's Note:**

> I am so excited to finally post what I've been working on for the past month and a half :) This fic also has a song I've selected to accompany it, so that is given in the beginning. I, of course, do not own DRRR, it's characters, or the song. This part is from Izaya's perspective and (hopefully soon) I will have a second part from Shizuo's perspective, and perhaps some additional one shots to accompany this. I hope you enjoy!!

_Song: Millions by Gerard Way_

_You don’t understand_

_We don’t hold hands_

_Come catch me, run_

_Cuz I’m not having any fun_

_I think you’re sore_

_I think I’m done_

_A million reasons_

_Can I be your number one?_

It began abruptly. At first it was purely sexual: the weight of Shizuo’s fingers pressing bruises on hip bones, Izaya’s pointed smirk drawing blood from hot lips, and harsh unpleasantries grated in each other’s ears. It occurred in obscure places: a dark alleyway shaded from the prying street lights, behind Russia Sushi with Simon’s thick accent distant in the background, and in an abandoned building that smelt like cobwebs and must. They didn't talk about it. There were no fingers laced together with soft thumb stokes or the entanglement of legs beneath clean sheets. Not originally, anyway.

Izaya was fine with this. He had transcended such pointless forms of love and expanded his emotions to encompass all of his fellow humans (not that the monster of Ikebukuro was ever included in these affections.) The idea of another human exploring the chasm of his mind, awakening forgotten emotions and demanding his attention, was far too much of a weight to lay on his shoulders. He in fact preferred the hateful taste of cigarettes lingering in his mouth and the blue blossoms across his skin reminding him that this _wasn’t_ love. There were no rules to this game and there were no cracks in the many masks that made up Izaya’s fragile existence. Not until the dumb protozoan tipped the first domino and began a cascade of walls crumbling downward, flurrying up dust and threatening Izaya’s emotional stronghold.

-

It was raining the day that the end began. The end of what could only be described as the most perfect and most hateful sexcapade. Izaya’s fluffy coat had clung to his skin and Shizuo’s wet hair had sent droplets down onto the pavement. The blonde’s teeth had pulled at the tender flesh of Izaya’s neck, leaving obscene erythemas as he descended towards the valleys of Izaya’s collar bones. His fingers had crushed tightly against Izaya’s hips, pushing the other hard into the wall behind him and growling against his flesh.

“What’s that smell?”

“I’m not sure,” Izaya had gasped out between hot breaths, “What you’re referring to.” His fingers were curled into Shizuo’s blonde hair, silver rings protruding from beneath the locks as he yanked roughly.

“Who else touched you?” Shizuo had demanded as his fingers dipped down beneath the waistband of Izaya’s pants. The informant’s back had arched as his hips convulsed forwards, craving the intoxication of Shizuo’s hand around him.

“It was… just… business,” Izaya’s lips had pulled up at the corners, fighting his rapid breaths to reveal his usual devilish smirk. “Is the beast jealous?” Shizuo’s hand had finally reached its destination and any future taunts were lost in the back of Izaya’s throat.

Shizuo had just growled into Izaya’s mouth in response and increased the intensity of his touches. Izaya was too lost in the feeling to say anything else, his attempts at composure slowly withering beneath the weight of Shizuo against him. Unknown to the raven haired informant at the time, this had been the first crack in his wide collection of masks. An emotion had bubbled within him that he wasn’t sure he understood; Shizuo was possessive of him. Shizuo wanted Izaya to himself, and the informant didn't know how to respond to this unknown sensation.

-

The feeling did not go away. It made another appearance sometime later during a wild chase across Ikebukuro. Izaya had been passing through an alleyway when he was jumped by a collection of people he had supposedly wronged. The informant was no stranger to the large range of people that would love to see him bloodied and cold. This amused him just as much as anything else; humans were just too interesting. He had been about to draw his knife when an angry howl sounded from the distance.

“IZAYA-KUN,” Shizuo’s furious voice had erupted down the alleyway and the informant’s head had jerked in the direction of the sound, eyes widening. The blonde had stomped in his direction, a vein on his forehead twitching with the heat of his rage. “I thought I told you to stay out of- Who the hell are they?” It wasn’t until Shizuo had reached the scene that he noticed the two of them weren’t alone.

“Oh, just some friends,” Izaya had dismissed with a wave, a smirk rising to his face as if he had pulled on a another mask. Shizuo had turned, eyes narrowing in on the weapons in the hoodlum’s hands.

“Shit,” one of them had mumbled, stumbling backwards, “That’s Shizuo Heiwajima.”

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are,” Shizuo had snarled, closing in on the hoodlums that had begun to turn and run, “But no one kills the flea except me!” The man in a bartender uniform had grabbed one of the men by the collar of his shirt, ignoring the hoodlum’s screams for mercy, and hurled him in the direction of his cohort. Incoherent sounds of panic could be heard in the distance as his body smashed into one of the others and the group quickly scrambled to collect themselves and run off.

“I hope you don’t expect me to thank you,” Izaya had chastised coldly. “I can handle myself.” The informant had then pointed his blade in Shizuo’s direction before sliding it down into the sleeve of his plush coat. Shizuo was still breathing heavily, fists clenched at his side as he fought with himself to calm down. The possessiveness had resurfaced.

“I know,” Shizuo had blinked, looking a little unsure of himself. He had taken a step closer to Izaya, feeling as close to relaxed as one could possibly be around the raven haired deviant. “Now that I have you here, there was something I have been meaning to ask.”

“Ne, Shizu?” Izaya had raised an eyebrow quizzically, but before the bartender had the chance to open his mouth, a laugh had pulled from Izaya’s throat. “You’ll have to catch me first!”

Shizuo had roared, enraged by the other’s refusal to listen, and turned after him. Izaya’s feet had thrummed against the pavement as he fed on the adrenaline that coursed through him. A few moments later, a trash can had hurtled past him as Izaya’s name flooded Shizuo’s lips. The informant’s heart had pounded up into his ears, but he failed to admit to himself that he was more afraid of Shizuo’s words than any object he could throw. The strange feeling in his chest had come to a boil and the more he was around Shizuo, the sooner it would burst over the brim and spill out of him.

-

Izaya had avoided Shizuo for weeks after that development. He had busied himself with work, afraid of his thoughts creeping up on him and reminding him of his predicament. He had avoided Ikebukuro as much as possible, finding out of the way places to meet up with his clients. There was even a day in which the beast had showed up at his apartment building, and Izaya had snuck into his neighbor’s apartment to avoid Shizuo’s blistering eyes and the way his bleached hair fell into his face.

How he had ended up with Shizuo pinning him against the wall of an alleyway was beyond him. Izaya had put the blame on the protozoan’s pure unpredictability, denying that he had perhaps wanted to see the blonde after all.

“Let go of me, you dumb beast,” Izaya had hissed up into Shizuo’s snarl, his face a smug mask as he reached down to slide his knife out. Shizuo’s hands had flashed downwards, grabbing Izaya’s thin wrists to stop him and leaving hot burns wherever they touched against his skin.

“Where have you been?” Shizuo had countered, his face inching closer to Izaya’s. The informant had kept his face hard pressed into his smirk, but his mind was swimming. He had fought to control the way his breath caught in his mouth and his stomach lurched like a tidal wave. Could Shizuo feel his pulse racing across his wrists, or were his eyes showing his true nervousness?

“That information will cost you three bills,” Izaya had replied smoothly, flashing his teeth up at the monster.

“I’m not in the mood for games, flea,” Shizuo had snarled, tightening his grip on Izaya’s wrists and lifting his arms up over his head. The baggy sleeves of Izaya’s coat had sunk lower on his arms as Izaya’s heart rose to his throat. He had felt Shizuo’s exhale against his lips as he struggled to swallow.

“I’m afraid my life is none of your business, Shizu. You’ll have to find someone else to bother. If you want to-”

Shizuo’s surprisingly soft lips had growled against Izaya’s, cutting off his sneers. The word _concern_ never crossed Izaya’s mind. It was impossible to him that another human, or maybe even a monster, was _concerned_ with his whereabouts. He had bit against Shizuo’s mouth, earning himself more growls, and attempted to slide his hands away from Shizuo’s. The other had only tightened his grip, his tongue fighting its way past Izaya’s teeth and into his mouth. Izaya had resisted the groan that rumbled in his throat and the jolt that ran up his spine.

Shizuo had moved to position Izaya’s wrists within one of his hands, the other reaching down to yank Izaya’s head upward by his hair. Shizuo’s mouth had attacked his jaw and throat, but Izaya had refused the shivers that rocketed through him.

“Is that the best you can do?” he had taunted, trying to keep his voice as smooth as possible. Izaya had often resisted allowing Shizuo the pleasure of his moans, pulling all forms of intimacy and enjoyment away from the entire experience until all that remained was bruises and bodily fluids. This had proved more of a challenge than usual.

“Do you ever shut up?” Shizuo had pulled harder against Izaya’s hair, bringing the other’s mouth level with his and drowning his words with sucks and bites. The blonde had pulled his fingers from Izaya’s hair to slip them downwards, the force of his kiss alone pushing Izaya’s head against the alley wall. Shizuo’s fingers had begun to wreak havoc across Izaya’s body as the other quivered to retain his composure. Izaya could not remember it ever being this difficult to compose himself. His stomach had become a hurricane and his skin had grown a mind of its own. Each motion that Shizuo made had brought him closer to losing himself.

It wasn’t until Shizuo’s name had left his mouth that another crack had formed in Izaya’s mask. He had been so shocked to hear his own voice, raspy and full of heat, that he had untangled himself from Shizuo and begun to fix his clothing. This madness had to stop. He could feel himself slipping and this was the last straw.

“Izaya, wait,” Shizuo was obviously trying to hide the hint of anger in his voice. He had sounded disheveled and even confused as to what had gone wrong. Izaya had frozen in his attempt to escape, but refused to turn around, afraid of the pink staining his cheeks. “Izaya. Go on a date with me.”

-

Izaya had drawn himself a bath, trying to bring calm back to his shaking bones, and sunken down deep into the mass of bubbles and hot water. His finger tips had curled into fists, nails pricking like blade points, and his eyes squeezed shut as ragged breaths pulled into his lungs.

_What is happening to me?_ Izaya had felt sick. The feeling in the pit of his stomach had begun to beat against him. His thoughts had flooded with the scratches his hands left on Shizuo’s back and the mix of cigarettes and blood still on his lips. Had he really just agreed to go on a date with the amoeba he hated more than anything? Izaya Orihara did not go on dates. The one monster Izaya had never been able to control had somehow slid past his walls once again and created an unpredictable aftermath.

_Control._ Izaya had sat in the bath until the water went cold trying to regain control of his situation. His masks were falling apart and pieces of himself were falling free. He had rushed to collect them, trying to compartmentalize the scramble inside his head and return himself to normal, but the beast had already awakened a separate demon.

-

Izaya had selected the most remote location possible for the _date._ He could not risk the harassment that would haunt him like a ghost should anyone catch them together. In return for secrecy, Izaya sacrificed his expensive taste buds and cloth napkins for a privately owned diner in Shinjuku. He had assumed this was more within the beast’s price range, anyways.

Izaya had of course arrived first. It was odd not seeing a glint of fear cross over the waitress’s eyes as she seated him; no one knew him here. All of the patrons within the restaurant were going on with their average, mundane lives and no one had so much as spared a glance when a man in a bartender uniform entered the building.

“Flea,” Shizuo had greeted when he sat down at their table, looking on edge. Their waitress had brought them waters, and Izaya had requested a black coffee because he knew he would need it after this ordeal.

“That’s an awfully rude way to greet your date,” Izaya had observed, ripping the paper from the end of his straw.

“I’ll call you by your name when you call me by mine,” Shizuo had retorted. Izaya had chuckled at this, bringing his straw to his mouth to blow the wrapper across the table and into Shizuo’s face. The blonde’s nose had scrunched with annoyance and his fingers had squeezed the edge of his chair. “Don’t push it,” he had hissed.

Izaya had ordered the most expensive item on the menu and Shizuo had ordered straight from the minimal selection of desserts. For one so adept at getting what he wanted, Izaya found he was having an easier time talking with the waitress than the obviously irritated man across from him. He had refused to admit to himself the nervousness that was holding him back from polite conversation. Truthfully, he had never bothered attending a date before. Or at least, a date without the intention of manipulating his suitor for useful information. He had even ruined dates for Shizuo on numerous occasions, and it appeared this evening would be no different.

“How do you eat that disgusting confection? It’s no wonder you didn't develop properly,” Izaya had hissed at the sight of Shizuo’s lava cake, overflowing with fudge and a mountain of vanilla ice cream.

“Would it kill you to act civil for once in your life? I am actually attempting to enjoy myself.” Shizuo’s fingers had pressed dents into the napkin dispenser in the center of the table.

“You’re one to talk, brute,” had come the sharp tongued reply. “You can’t go five minutes without breaking something.” Izaya had watched their waitress start to approach and then turn the other way once she caught sight of the expression on Shizuo’s face.

Within a few more minutes, Shizuo had flipped the table (which was connected to the floor) and covered Izaya in melted ice cream and hot coffee. Izaya had felt all the eyes of the restaurant pinned on the two of them as he only laughed, his lips risen into his usual smirking mask.

“I’ll kill you,” Shizuo had roared, but Izaya was already slipping away, dropping quite a few bills onto the counter near the cash register as he escaped to the streets. The bells connected to the restaurant door had jingled as Shizuo slammed the door open full force in pursuit. Izaya had laughed harder into the evening air, bemused by the way the crowds parted in confusion as he raced past and tingling with the anticipation of Shizuo catching him.

-

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Namie had hissed out, slamming Izaya’s hot cup of coffee down onto his desk and sending a splash flying over the edges of the mug. Izaya had fallen asleep on his desk again and looked up with drowsy eyes. “Where are all those papers you were supposed to have for me?” It was unlike the informant to be so behind on his work.

“I was unaware that I worked for you now,” Izaya had taunted, but there was no real malice behind his tired words. The informant had in fact become quite fond of his harsh mouthed secretary, although he would never tell Namie of this revelation.

“Did your boyfriend beat you up again?” Namie had snapped back as Izaya lifted his head, revealing a colorful bruise along his jaw. The slight ache in his legs had reminded him of yet another failed date with Shizuo the night before.

“Shizu is not my boyfriend,” Izaya had responded easily, “I hate him.”

“Judging by the look of you, I’d say the feeling is mutual,” Namie had given Izaya a glance over, taking in the multiple bruises that clung to his visible skin and the torn open knees of his jeans. The fluffy coat that hung on the chair behind him had seemed to be the only part of him that was unharmed. Izaya hadn’t been able to control the flash of hurt that crossed his expression. The cracks in his masks were beginning to expose more of his emotions that he preferred to let out.

“Oh, poor you,” Namie had mocked out a wail, taking any opportunity possible to poke at her usually bulletproof boss. “If you want people to like you, maybe you should stop being so difficult and demeaning all the time.” Izaya had stared down at his coffee and for once a taunt hadn’t whipped out of his mouth.

“I’m afraid I don’t know how,” he had admitted, his voice as casual as he could muster as he watched the steam rise from his cup. The fact that Izaya had ruined three dates and Shizuo had still agreed to go on another was beyond him. The informant had considered that perhaps Shizuo was just as lonely and ostracized as he was, or that Shizuo saw through his facade of cold words and into the man beneath. Izaya had spent his entire life above the feelings of regular people and had never considered intentionally pleasing another individual. He had struggled to grasp this odd wanting to watch Shizuo smile at him, and in this desire he realized that Shizuo had never smiled _at him_ before. Izaya had been used to this: watching people smile genuine happiness at one another, but never at him. When was the last time that Izaya himself had smiled instead of wearing a mask?

“Are you even trying?” Izaya hadn’t realized that Namie was still standing over his desk until she spoke, leering down at him with her usual frown.

Her question had ended up bothering Izaya throughout his work for the rest of the day. Even he did not know the answer.

-

The fourth date had been more successful than the third, and the fifth was better than the fourth. In other words, things had gone as well as they could go for a madman and his monster.

But Izaya seemed to create conflict wherever he went, and his interactions with Shizuo were no exception. It had been hot that day, the sun blistering down onto the streets and creating Shizuo’s annoyance before Izaya had spoken a word. Izaya had picked this unfortunate day to come to Ikebukuro and take advantage of the debt collector’s post work annoyance.

“Thought I told you to stay out of Ikebukuro, flea,” Shizuo had spat the words without even turning around to face the other. Somehow, the blonde had always been able to sense Izaya’s presence from all the way across the city. Izaya had often pondered how Shizuo relentlessly managed to find him, even on days when he didn’t want to be found.

“But Shizu,” Izaya had protested, his voice inkling higher into a tease. “I’m awfully bored and I’m sure a monster like you could find _some way_ to entertain me.”

“Izaya,” Shizuo had snarled, flipping around and clenching his fingers around the sign post next to him. “Not today, it’s fuckin’ hot.” The afternoon sun had still been blistering, and Izaya had to squint to see the way Shizuo’s hand crunched down the metal of the sign post.

“Aaah, but of course a beast like you just has to find some way to let out all his pent up frustration,” Izaya continued, his face rising into a smirk to flash his teeth. “That is why you follow me around like a dog, right?”

“Follow you around?” Shizuo had roared, the vein on his forehead beginning to twitch, and the signpost had begun to rip up from crumbling cement. “You’re the one who can’t stay the hell away from my city.”

“I suppose you’ll have to be rid of me then,” Izaya’s lashes had dipped down under the sunlight as he shot Shizuo a knowing look.

Shizuo had lurched forwards after that, swinging his signpost for Izaya’s side. The other had simply stepped sideways to miss the swipe, his knife already drawn from his pocket and a laugh hot on his mouth.

Shizuo had bellowed, and any foot traffic nearby had already begun to scatter. They had fled down the alleyways until Izaya had run out of space to run and flipped around. After some effort, he had managed to stuff the tip of his knife into Shizuo’s steely side.

“I’m going to kill you, Izaya,” Shizuo had pulled the knife out. “You’ve ruined another one of my shirts.” Izaya had taken a step forward, arching his back towards Shizuo and grinning.

“You wouldn’t kill me,” Izaya had assured. “You’re far too obsessed. You just love me too much for that, Shizu.” Izaya had placed his hands on Shizuo’s chest and tipped his head upward to look at the other.

“A freak like you is unloveable,” Shizuo had pushed Izaya back into the alley wall, ignoring the force of the brick against the informant’s lithe body.

“Those are strong words for a monster,” Izaya had taunted, nails making a fist into Shizuo’s bloody shirt. “Perhaps you chase me around so much because everyone else is so scared of you. Poor, lonely Shizu.”

“Perhaps I’m doing everyone else a favor and getting rid of a pest,” Shizuo had growled down at him.

“Kill me then. We both know that isn’t what we’re here for,” had come Izaya’s smooth reply, his head tipping down to the side to expose his neck to Shizuo. The blonde’s hands had shifted to grip Izaya’s waist, and his teeth had pulled blood where it touched Izaya’s skin and mouth. Izaya’s only response were his fingers prodding into Shizuo’s stab wound.

-

Izaya’s eyes were by far the most intricate part of his masks. They were the most difficult to control and required the most amount of focus. Harsh eyes could easily reveal the wolf behind sheep’s clothing, which was less than beneficial when it came to getting things to go his way. The informant had learned very early along that putting the right amount of emotion into an expression could go a long way in his line of work, but he had never learned to correctly display his actual feelings. He had pondered this as he stared into Shizuo’s bathroom mirror, still foggy from his shower. When he was alone, his eyes held no playful glint or kind sympathy. They were harsh and inherently empty, any real emotion hidden too deep within him to show on the surface.

Izaya’s wet hair had clung to his forehead when he peeked back into Shizuo’s bedroom, watching the blonde’s chest rise and fall beneath the blankets and assuming him to be asleep. He had still not adjusted to the idea that Shizuo was now comfortable enough around him to allow him into his home. They would eat dinner and have moderately peaceful conversations, but Izaya did not allow for more. Even following sex, there were no offerings of affection between the two of them. Izaya did not allow them to cuddle, touch hands, press gentle kisses, or even shower together. He had certainly never stayed the night. He had always snuck out while Shizuo was showering or crept from the apartment while Shizuo slept. On a few occasions, he had amused himself by shutting off the blonde’s alarm clock for work in the morning before leaving.

“Izaya,” the informant had been startled by the blonde’s sleepy voice as he had turned to leave.

“What is it now, Shizu?” he had pulled the door all the way open, leaning against the doorframe. Shizuo was still shirtless and his hair was tousled down into his eyes. Izaya had been unable to resist trailing his eyes across the skin of the other’s chest, barely illuminated by the city lights from outside the window.

“Stay,” Shizuo had been blunt about it, but Izaya could still hear the fear of rejection behind the other’s steady voice. He had frozen, a lump in his throat, and for a moment said nothing. Shizuo had never asked him to stay before. In fact, no one had ever invited Izaya to stay the night with them before.

“A-alright,” Izaya had finally stammered out, unable to hide the quiver in his voice. “As long as you’re sure I won’t stab you while you sleep.”

“I’ll sleep with one eye open,” Shizuo had assured with a small chuckle, scooting over in the bed to make room for the other. Izaya had shed his coat, dreading the way he felt naked without it, and hung it on the doorknob of Shizuo’s closet. He had stripped from his jeans and for a moment hesitated in removing his shirt before pulling it off. Izaya had very rarely removed his shirt in front of Shizuo and even preferred to leave it on during sex. He had felt a small amount of pink creep onto his cheeks at the way Shizuo’s eyes burned in the dark as he took in the appearance of the informant’s body.

Shizuo’s bed had smelled faintly of cigarettes and the monster’s own stench as Izaya climbed beneath the covers. Izaya had felt the warmth radiating out of the other like a heater and warming his cool skin. He had felt his entire body stiffen as Shizuo rolled against him, gently wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him closer. Izaya’s bare flesh had tingled where Shizuo touched and for a moment, he could not shake the hint of fear and the expectation of pain that never came. Every glimpse of a memory in his head had told him that climbing into bed with his most hated enemy, the man that had colored his skin so many times, was a bad idea. Izaya had never reached a conclusion on what had inspired him to allow such soft touches.

“Goodnight, flea,” Shizuo had mumbled, laying his head on Izaya’s chest and closing his eyes. Wild strands of blonde hair had tickled Izaya’s skin as he stared down at Shizuo’s face and tried to relax. Inside his body was a roller coaster of feelings Izaya had wished he didn’t enjoy. Somehow, it had been nice to feel someone else’s body so close to his own instead of his usual cold sheets. Somehow, it had been nice to know Shizuo trusted him enough to sleep in front of him instead of allowing him to travel all the way back to Shinjuku. Somehow, it had been nice to look at Shizuo’s sleeping form and feel something other than hatred.

Izaya had not realized he was crying until he tasted the salt of a stray tear across his lips. His chest had quaked as he fought to contain the rest of them. The informant had not, for as long as he could remember, shed tears in front of another human. His eyes had somehow found his emotions and put them on display. As Izaya’s breath caught in his throat, Shizuo shifted closer to him and tangled one of his legs over Izaya’s. If the blonde had noticed Izaya’s silent sobs, he had decided to spare the other the embarrassment of pointing them out.

-

It had taken Shizuo almost a year to convince Izaya to make a public appearance with him. The blonde had insisted that the effort of hiding from everyone had become too tedious. Izaya, on the other hand, had not wanted to endanger his reputation and was convinced that none of Shizuo’s friends liked him, anyway.

“It’s Shinra’s birthday and we’re both his friend,” Shizuo had protested as they sat on Izaya’s couch and watched a program about cats. “You’ve always wanted to go to a hot pot.” Izaya had hesitated for a moment, turning to look at the taller man beside him.

“Alright, I’ll allow it,” he had hissed out, trying his best to sound as disappointed as possible. “But you owe me.”

“The finest otoro that money can buy,” Shizuo had promised.

“Aahh, I was thinking of something a little more…,” Izaya had objected, leaning over the couch and pressing his hands on either side of Shizuo's head. Shizuo had growled, smashing his lips up against Izaya’s and pulling the other into his lap. The heat of Shizuo’s body against him had drowned out the rest of Izaya’s protests.

-

Izaya had been more nervous than he had thought he would be on the date of Shinra’s birthday. Shizuo had informed the others that he was bringing a date, much to their surprise, but had left Izaya nameless. Izaya himself had been uninvited, which was painfully typical of hot pots.

“You’ll be fine,” Shizuo had assured, and Izaya had followed his gaze down to their hands. Shizuo had made no attempts to hold them together despite his stares and obviously loud swallow. They had stood outside the door to Shinra’s apartment awkwardly for a few minutes, Izaya’s fingers clenching white against Shinra’s gift box, until the man in a bartender uniform finally knocked upon the door.

“Shizuo!” the door had flown open almost instantly and Shinra’s chirpy voice had chimed from the doorway. Almost immediately, the doctor’s smile had faltered and was replaced with a look of confusion. “And… Izaya?”

“Ahh, thank you for the invite Shinra,” Izaya had smiled coyly as he extended the other’s gift forward. Shinra had hesitantly reached forward to grab the gift, eyes shifting back and forth between the pair. Almost nothing stunned Shinra, and by now his absence had collected the attention of the rest of the party.

“Iza-Iza and Shizu are here _together?”_ had come the excited squeal of Erika as she bounced up and down on her feet.

“Not possible,” had come the retort of Walker, “one of them has obviously been swapped with an identical from another dimension.”

“No way!” Erika had shouted. “It’s far more likely that one of them was brainwashed.”

_[ Are you aliens!?]_ Celty’s PDA had waved in their faces, and the dullahan had somehow appeared headlessly distressed.

“Fear not, Earthlings,” Izaya had pushed himself through the doorway, arms held up dramatically. His stomach had knotted and he felt as if he might vomit, but what better way to hide fear than a mask of confidence? “Shizu and I are here together.” It had appeared that all of Ikebukuro was within the apartment. They had eyed the couple with varying levels of fear and confusion. Celty had shot Izaya eyeless daggers of rage, obviously convinced this was some ploy to get at Shizuo. Izaya himself was often shocked that the past few years of antics had not been a ploy to get at Shizuo.

The heaviness of the two of them together had eventually faded into a soft mist about the party, with everyone trying not to stare and talk amongst themselves. Izaya had felt his phone buzz in his pocket and was already certain the news of them arriving together had begun to spread. Izaya had swallowed thickly and used the rest of the party as an opportunity to amuse himself by making everyone else uncomfortable.

-

Things had not changed nearly as much as Izaya expected them to once their relationship had gone public. They still bickered and Shizuo still threatened to kill him on a regular basis. They still chased each other down the street and locked mouths in secluded alleyways. The only difference was the gossip. And Izaya had always fed on gossip; it was how he made a living.

In fact, the only obvious difference had occurred within Shizuo himself. Izaya had noticed the change right away, but it was not until months later that he learned what shifted. Shizuo’s touches had become softer, as if he had begun to make more of an effort to control himself around Izaya. Although the efforts had been small, something as simple as their thighs brushing as they sat on the couch had felt like a full out attack. The small shifts had continued, and Izaya had allowed them, not yet sure how he felt about such an unfamiliar level of intimacy.

Intimacy did not come easily to the raven haired informant. Shizuo had, only once, tried to hold Izaya’s hand during sex and created a spiral of awkwardness that lasted for days. It was this inability to receive and return affections that had almost resulted in the termination of everything Izaya had worked to become comfortable with. It was the sound of one word fleeing from Shizuo’s lips that had almost caused Izaya to hide himself behind his masks for good.

The incident had occurred while lying in Shizuo’s bed. The blonde’s hair had still been tossed in all directions from the pull of Izaya’s fingers and his breath was still ragged in his throat. He had laid on his side, crumpled sheets hanging over his lower half, and searched Izaya’s face through the darkness. Izaya had felt his breath catch in his throat as his body still hummed with the aftereffects of pleasure. He had often considered how odd it was for him to lay beside his arch enemy, but it was true that Shizuo probably knew more about him than anyone else. Albeit learned through hatred, Shizuo knew every nook and cranny of Izaya’s mind and body: his weaknesses, his strengths, what annoyed him, and what he liked. The beast had always been more observant than Izaya liked to give him credit for. However, true to his unpredictability, just as Izaya was starting to feel comfortable with the weight of the other’s presence beside him, Shizuo had thrown another punch.

“Izaya,” he had said, voice soft through the darkness. Izaya had raised an eyebrow and met Shizuo’s gaze, trying to make sense of his expression.

“I think I might love you.” The words had come fast but steadily from Shizuo’s mouth, hesitant and confident all at once.

Izaya’s mouth had opened and closed a few times, fighting off potential replies. Panic raced through his veins and he couldn’t make sense of his thoughts. If Izaya had any masks left, now would’ve been the time to wear one, but he could not bring himself to respond. Izaya’s mouth had never failed to spout nonsense, but when he had needed words, none had come. Izaya had only heard his own breathing and the slight shift of Shizuo beside him as silence hung over them.

“It’s okay,” Shizuo had spoken again, and Izaya had heard the other swallow as he rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. Although Izaya had found himself expecting rage, the silence had returned.

A few moments later, once function had begun to return to Izaya’s body, he had gotten to his feet, leaving nothing but warm sheets to indicate that he was ever there. He had tried to ignore the sounds of Shizuo breaking something as he slipped from the apartment.

-

Izaya had begun to avoid Shizuo again after that. He had told himself he could never love a monster - that he could never love anyone aside from humans as a whole - but try as he might, a blonde in a bartender suit haunted his thoughts. He had told himself that he was above such animalistic feelings and tried to make sense of himself. He had always told himself that no one would ever accept him as he was, that he would never change for another, but Shizuo had always seen straight into him. Shizuo had seen Izaya for what he was, hated him for his disgusting manipulations, and yet was still willing to love him.

Izaya had to admit, his life was dull while avoiding the blonde. Taunting Namie did nothing to compare to the sound of Shizuo’s angry growls. The easily swayed words of his clients did nothing to shock him like Shizuo’s unrelenting force. Izaya had found himself staring out his apartment window, watching for a certain figure to storm his door, but the violence never came. Had Shizuo given up on him? Was he not worth Shizuo’s time anymore? Somehow, this thought, that even his most hated enemy would not come to bother him anymore, had hurt more than anything else.

-

Weeks had passed, and Izaya eventually found himself outside a certain Ikebukuro apartment with his heart lurching up his throat. _What am I doing here?_ He had wondered. He had certainly doubted that Shizuo would ever want to see him again, not after he had converted hatred into real emotional pain. Everyone at this point, Shizuo included, had probably thought the past to be one giant, manipulative game. Izaya had recalled a time when Shinra told him that he didn’t know a thing about love. And now that he understood more, he was alone. He had paused outside the apartment for a long moment before knocking, and hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until he was staring up at Shizuo’s scowl.

“What the hell do you want, flea?” the malice of the words had stung. A cigarette had hung from Shizuo’s pursed lips and the air around him seemed to reverberate with anger. Izaya had heard, around forums and through clients, that Shizuo had been on an especially violent streak as of late. Izaya had not known the answer, so he had simply stood with his lips parted and his heartbeat racing. He had, for once in his life, arrived at a destination without prior intentions. Not a single person could render him helpless in the way that Shizuo did. The blonde had snarled.

“Get out of here before I make you,” his fingers had gripped white as the metal of his doorknob began to crunch inward. “Izaya, I swear I’ll-”

“I love you, too,” Izaya had blurted out. Izaya could not recall the last time those words had formed themselves upon his lips. Had he ever said them to anyone? Izaya had found himself without a mask, completely exposed to the man he hated most. He had hated Shizuo for making him so weak. How, he had wondered, had a monster drawn from within him the most human feeling. And how had he not realized he had felt it until this moment? Shizuo had frowned down at him until the door knob had ripped from the wood.

“Why do you make my life so difficult, Izaya? You had better not be playing me,” he had grumbled, swinging the door open farther and stepping backwards. “Get inside before I change my mind.”

Izaya had stepped through the doorway, not bothering to fight the smile that pulled up at the corners of his mouth, using muscles Izaya’s face had long since forgotten. Shizuo would never cease to surprise him.


End file.
